This is Halloween
by ColorCoated
Summary: What's the best part about living with Remy? Probably being invited to a Guild Halloween Party. Does it matter that Rogue only has 24 hours to find the perfect costume? Probably not. What about if her favorite Cajun has some certain costume requests? *Sequel to Our House*


I know, I know, I said I was done. . .But then Halloween happened and I found myself particularly inspired. I only wish this didn't take me so long to write!

This story follows my other story Our House, which follows Flying South and Box of Chocolate, but can be read independently.

A special shout out to Lex-F who Beta'ed this for me and did a wonderful job.

* * *

This is Halloween

His eyes are glued to me as I straddle his lap, but to be honest they've been glued to me all night.

I don't know whose office this is, but at this point I don't care. This chair is all winged back and leather, and with my legs on either side of his body, I can feel how hard he is all ready.

Experimentally, I roll my hips towards him and he groans. He wraps an arm around my waist, and uses it to hold me down harder against him. The other hand tightly grabs the back of my neck and forces my head to tilt.

Sure, I could've just tilted it if he asked, but I would rather have him be aggressive.

Remy's lips are on my neck and part of me thinks I should remind him not to leave any marks but the other part of me thinks what the hell. The sucking on my neck pinches my skin a bit and I love the feeling.

That's the thing about hickies. Sure, they're embarrassing as all get out but the process of getting them? Well, it's pretty damn good.

I roll my hips again and the hand around my waist moves itself down to fully cup my ass and squeeze. The hardness in his dress pants is right where I need it to be, and it feels so good. I grind myself against him, fully aware that I could work myself off before we even get started.

The hand on the back of my neck forces his lips to mine in a kiss full of heat and sparks.

As I hear Remy growl my name is that husky voice of his, I can't help but wonder: How did I get here?

* * *

I look out the train window, surprisingly happy that the rain let up. Of course there was no rain in the forecast when I left for work on my bike this morning. I have no idea where that afternoon shower came from, but it's made me decide to trust weathermen (weather women? Weather people?) even less. They're all liars.

Just like that stupid new guy at Dunkin Donuts who swore there was no cream filled doughnuts in my dozen. Jackass.

Anyway, I'm tired. Work was busy today. That's right: work. Apparently it's what happens after you graduate college.

And it's way less fun.

I'm currently working for a small automotive parts company in the city. It's kind of lame, as it's mostly calling people and ordering parts, but whatever. I figure if I work my way up enough, I'll finally get my hands on some cars and then I'll really enjoy it.

Having bachelor's degrees in "business" and "automotive technology" sounds really cool until you realize you still have to start at the bottom doing grunt work.

Whatever. I'm saving up to buy the shell of a sports car and rebuild it. It'll be amazing.

The train speaker announced that my stop is next so I stand up, my black riding pants tight on my legs and my leather boots heavy on my feet. I zip up my jacket; put the strap of my backpack on one shoulder, and grab my helmet with one had before heading for the door.

Shuffling off of the train with the rest of the commuters, I head towards the parking lot and see my bike waiting for me. And she is a beauty. All black and grey metal with neon green highlights outlining the body. I love it.

You're probably wondering how I could afford a new bike when this job isn't paying me that much?

Well…About that…see, I got a new car as a graduation gift from my family, and it's a Camaro and I love it, but I needed a bike too.

Let's be honest, everyone needs a motorcycle in their life.

I restored some car for some guy Remy knows. He was kind of a douche and his overpriced sports car made him look a little bit like a pretentious a-hole, but the money was good, it was a fun job and I pocketed quite a bit of cash from it.

How did I make up for the gap between that money and the price of the bike? Oh, I just took Remy's credit card when he wasn't looking. I'm still not really sure if he even noticed the purchase on his bill or not.

Eh, I don't really care.

I pull my gloves out of my backpack before sliding them on and placing my bag on both shoulders. I pull the visor down on my helmet, mount the bike, and head for the home I share with my man.

* * *

I can feel him thrust up towards me and I can barely breathe as his mouth is working my neck and slowly moving downwards.

I'm pretty sure I'm on top here; I should be in control.

His tongue laps its way back up and I feel it trace along the edge of my ear.

His voice is low; in the husky way it always is when we have sex, all dark chocolate and melted timbre, "When we get home," he punctuates this with a squeeze of my ass, "I'm going to wreck you."

"Ah," my breath catches in my throat at his words and I find myself gasping as his mouth meets mine. His teeth wrap around my bottom lip and they're tugging and nipping at it in a way so hot that I just have to close my eyes and enjoy it.

It takes me a moment to form words. I can't even think and the fingertips of his hands are working themselves between the small of my back and my shorts. "Why wait till we get home?"

It's like that's what he needs to hear and he mutters a certain F word before pushing me off of him.

I stumble backwards, thankful that the chair was high enough that I only go from sliding off his waist to standing back on the floor, but a large hand on my waist steadies me none the less.

As soon as I'm settled on my feet both his hands are on the sides of my waist. I feel his fingertips in the waistband of my hot pants, as he scoots to the edge of the chair. He wastes no time in quickly sliding them down my legs.

I watch his eyebrow arch and head tilt slightly as I'm left in a pair of teeny tiny black thong panties. I thought they were a nice touch.

"I like dem." he states it simply, almost comically, before the temperature in the room raises another few degrees as I feel his fingers pulling those down as well.

There's definitely a strange feeling about being in someone else's house - at someone else's party- and standing half naked in their office.

Of course, once you get past the slightly strange feeling, then it's just incredibly hot.

I reach my hands up between my boobs for the zipper pull of my top.

"Non," Remy stops me with a strong demand before titling his head slightly in the opposite direction, "Leave it on."

I can't stop the smirk on my lips. Half clothed sex in someone else's house? It's a little kinky, but I kind of like it.

I lean forward to get my hands on his belt. As I'm doing that and pulling down his zipper, I know it's giving him an eyeful of cleavage. Hey, with all the work I did getting the girls pushed up in such a way, I'm glad everyone is enjoying them.

As I get his pants open, he leans forward and is kissing the tops of my breasts that the costume doesn't cover. It makes my skin feel hot. I work my hand into his boxer briefs and hear his breath catch a bit when I grab his hardness.

I roll my hand over the head, and then up and down the shaft a few times. Remy groans and I'm starting to realize that my patience is also wearing thin. I grab a mix of belt, pants, and briefs in each hand on either side of his body. With one quick tug, they're pooling at his ankles and its obvious how much he wants me.

I mean, who wouldn't?

* * *

I pull my bike into the garage, and park it next to Remy's. Yeah, yeah, yeah my side of the garage is a little cluttered at the moment. My Cajun seems to think that I can't find anything in that mess, which is totally not true. I know where everything is, it's just a little all over the place.

What? You wouldn't call it a 'workshop' if work wasn't going to be done in there. With all the boring stuff I do at my actual job, I like to come home and get my hands dirty, have a little fun.

And if I'm going to be back in here tomorrow, what's the point of putting everything away today? Plus, a few pieces of an engine lying around never hurt anybody.

I put my helmet on one of the pegs on the wall and catch myself smiling a bit. That helmet rack has been involved in some pretty good times. I'm not going to kiss and tell, but let's just say the first night I was in the house, the garage may have been a pretty good place to get things started.

"Remy?" I look for my lover as I walk into the house. The table is set for dinner, as it often is when I come home (not to mention that the counters are totally clear because Remy cleans as he cooks. Is that not the strangest thing you've ever heard? Why clean then? You can always do it later.)

I put my jacket on the back of a kitchen stool and head towards the stairs. I find Remy in the office before I make it to the bedroom. The French doors of the office are open - they always are - and Remy is pacing the room slowly while engaged in a very animated conversation on the phone. I would totally eaves drop, but I don't speak a lick of French.

He's wearing a pink (oh, I'm sorry, "Magenta") t-shirt and a pair of jeans that are all dark denim and tight. As he turns to pace the opposite direction, I see how the snug fabric pulls tight across his ass and I have the overwhelming urge to jump him right now.

I watch as he folds an arm behind his head in a bit of a stretch, and the hem of his shirt rides up slightly. A few inches of tanned, beautiful abdominal muscles are revealed and my mouth goes slightly dry.

He looks up and gives me a little smile while carrying on his conversation. After a pause he mouths the words at me silently, "How was work?"

"It was fine. Ah'm gonna go change before dinner." Instead of waiting for him to respond, I turn back towards the stairs and head up to our bed room. The bed has been made, but Remy's running shorts are lying on top of the comforter, meaning he hasn't gone out yet today. It's not that surprising though. He spends a lot of hours on the phone for business reasons and it can mess with his schedule a bit.

That's fine with me; I had an idea for a different kind of work out after dinner.

I toss my pants in the direction of the hamper and grab a pair of yoga pants from the drawer. I take my time so that Remy has time to finish his call and I spend the majority of my five minutes sending him picture messages of me in my shirt and underwear.

Well, mostly to him. I think the first one accidentally went to Kitty since that was the last message window I had open.

Anyway, I know the messages will interrupt his call, so that's pretty much the only reason I do it.

My phone buzzes and I read the screen before I head back to the kitchen, "SERIOUSLY?! AGAIN?! How many times do I have to tell you that I don't want to see that?!"

I'm sure you can bet who that text was from (full disclaimer: I translated it into real words and correct grammar so you can understand it.)

I think you all know what response I have to that: semicolon, end parenthesis.

Winky smiley face.

There's a pause and my phone buzzes again, "Petey says blue is your color."

Well, if your best friend's boyfriend approves, then who wouldn't?

As I switch my phone back from silent, I'm immediately greeted with a tritone, "Send more Remy, pls."

Before I can respond, it rings again, "Yeah, more Remy!"

That one was from Jubilee.

Damn you, group text.

* * *

"Yo are de sexiest ting I've ever seen," he's tonguing my neck as I climb onto his lap.

We both groan when flesh meets flesh. I let my legs hang over the side of the chair as I put both my arms around his neck.

He kisses me hard, with an open mouth, and slides his tongue against mine. I kiss back and push my chest against his.

He wraps an arm around my waist to pull me a bit closer to him and I can feel his hardness pushing up against my thigh.

I know you might think we're crazy, that we're at a party full if people and all that between us is a locked door. And trust me, if you knew the people, you would know that a lock on the door doesn't mean much.

But I can't help it. The way Remy was looking at me all night? His eyes all red and hot were already picturing me without my clothes. I wanted him since the minute we got to this party, since the minute he slapped my ass before leaving the house.

And yeah, I could see why you might think parading around in little more than underwear around a bunch other men might not be a turn on…But trust me, it is.

It's like fire.

If you know anything about my man, you know that he's a little bit of a control freak; in all situations. It's pretty kinky in the bedroom so that works out. But having Remy's eyes glued to me all night? The way he looks at me is so hot it could melt adamantium. Every time some other guy talked to me, looked at me, I could feel Remy's eyes on me. The Cajun gets off on the power of it. Something along the lines of everyone else can look but can't touch, and he's the one taking me home.

I know, it's all very caveman of him and I'm not a tree you can pee on, but there's something a little sexy about it.

"Careful, Cajun," I lean toward him and kiss the sensitive spot below his ear, moving up to his earlobe and giving it a little nip. My breath is hot on his ear as I place my lip next to it, "Anything yah say or do can be used against yah."

His eyes close for a minute as he absorbs the fantasy, and before I can finish Mirandizing him, he's turned my body so that I'm facing him. My legs are folded on either side of his body, the leather of the chair feeling cold against them.

He places a hand on the curve of my hip, and grasps himself with the other. He pulls my body to his and I comply willingly. I want this.

My eyes snap shut and my head tilts backwards. With an upwards thrust of his hips, he's fully buried inside me.

* * *

I walk into the kitchen to find Remy pouring wine into the two glasses on the counter. I give him a quick kiss on the cheek and squeeze on the rear before taking a glass. I take a sip as I head over to the table where he joins me.

I'm not sure what he made for dinner, but it smells delicious.

"How's business?" I take another bite while I wait for him to answer. That's kind of how it is these days.

Who knew that moving in together would mean we spend so much time together? I mean, time where we're not doing it.

And FYI, by it, I mean sex.

Turns out, in the last three of four years of us running around together, we didn't talk all that much. I mean, sure we went out and went on dates and stuff, but at least two thirds of that conversation was all innuendo.

"C'est bon." He responds with a smile.

That's another thing about Remy. I always knew he spoke French, but I never really knew if he was actually speaking French, or just bullshitting the stuff that wasn't a token phrase to make himself look sexy.

I mean, yeah the sexy part worked, but turns out he was being totally legit. His English is perfect, but it turns out French is his native tongue and he's a bit more comfortable with it. He typically speaks in English around me, but I've noticed more and more French slips in.

Interestingly enough, I'm even starting to pick a few things up. It's not like I'm trying to learn the whole language (because, let's be honest, ain't nobody got time for that), but I know a few good phrases; so far I can say "faster", "harder", "Remy is a great lover", and "I love pizza." That last one is in a bit of a different category than the first ones, but it's no less true.

"Goin' out of town soon?" Remy is out of town a lot for business. I can't tell you what he does exactly, but it just means that his schedule is a little unpredictable.

But it kind of works for us.

I was worried about moving in with my man after I graduated this past summer, but it's been a good three and half months now and it hasn't been so bad. Thanks to Remy's frequent work trips, he's out of the house a lot. Usually he's gone for about two or three days and in the house the rest of the week. There was a time when he was gone for two weeks, and another time he was gone for a week, but most of the time it's just a few days.

I'm not saying that the schedule is ideal, but I'm smart enough to admit it works for me. Jubilee says it's because I'm afraid of commitment and that way I feel like I still have my space, and Kitty says it's because I'm a Carrie and need to enjoy my secret single behaviors. I say they're both idiots. I've always been a bit of a loner, so I'm used to seeking out time for myself. I love spending time with Remy, but when he's not here I can stay in the garage working all night.

"Mmhm," He nods in acquiescence, "On Tuesday of next week."

I notice that I've already made my way through half the wine in front of me. How'd that happen?

"Tuesday?" I grin, starting to get excited, "That means yah'll be here the rest of the week?"

I can tell by the look on his face that he's trying to read me. He nods slowly.

"Which means," I hear excitement creep into my voice as I finish my dinner, "that you'll be here for Halloween!"

I can't help the excited laughter that joins my words. I mean are you surprised? What did you think my favorite holiday would be? Valentine'sday? Earth day? Don't be ridiculous. Free candy and outrageous costumes? That's where it's at.

"About dat," Apparently he's done with dinner too as he pushes his chair a bit away from the table and relaxes his posture, "We have plans."

"We do?" I give him a skeptical look. We've never "had plans" before. What does that even mean? And on Halloween?

And while we're on the subject of questioning things: why is there a difference between pink and magenta? Isn't magenta a shade of pink? Give it up Remy, you're wearing a pink shirt and everyone knows it.

The scheming look on his face has me intrigued, and I bring my glass up to my lips as I wait for him to elaborate.

"Dere's a party." He's grinning.

I can tell when he's being a little evasive and he's doing it now. Asshole. Remy can tell I'm excited. I mean, I live for Halloween parties. He obviously knows he's hooked me, and he's clearly waiting for me to push.

Which I won't, because I'm a strong, independent woman.

But on the other hand, it is Wednesday. That's like a red alert. Halloween is tomorrow and I'm only going to have one day to come up with a costume. I don't have time to wait!

"What party? When? Where?" I just give up at trying to not sound jumpy and excited. I guess you could say I'm so excited and I just can't hide it.

"It's a business party."

Pause. Just a quick head's up, when Remy says business party; he's not talking about a stuffy plain office party. The folks in his business really know how to get their party on.

"It is?" I know I sound surprised, and that's because I am. For lack of better words, Remy does his best to keep his home life and work life separate. And I'm okay with that. What he does could be considered trouble and it doesn't bother me that he keeps me apart from it.

It's also a very private type of industry and that's what surprises me the most. From what he's told me, they really don't like the idea of others in their business. I get that.

"Ah thought," I continue, a little curious about this whole thing, "That yah guys didn't let normal everyday folks attend your get togethers?"

He nods before continuing, "Dat's true, but Halloween is different. We like to party and since dat isn't a big night fo' workin', we make de most of it."

Interesting.

"An' it'd be a good idea. Yeah, I've been workin' in tandem wit the New York Guild for a couple o' months now, but y'know how politics are. It'd be good to make an appearance."

"Does that mean yah won't know a lot of people at the party? Are we going to have to make small talk? Ah hate small talk."

"I know yo' do," He almost rolls his eyes at me, "But don' worry bout dat. The five leader Guilds rotate throwing de annual Halloween party. A bunch o' dem from N'Awlins will be dere."

Let's be honest, that sounds ridiculous, "So all your little thievin' buddies are gonna travel across a few states for a Halloween party?"

He nods, "Not everybody is invited, but most o' de younger LeBeaus will be dere."

"So," I take a look at the small bit of wine left in my glass, "Ah'm gonna meet all your friends and family tomorrow."

"Not all o' dem, but oui," I watch as a large grin sets itself into place, "And yo will be in costume."

"Are you serious? Halloween is tomorrow! Ah can't find a costume that quickly."

Just so you all know, that's a totally lie. I could find a costume at the drop of a hat. I'm a full blown Halloween miracle. You want to be a zombie? Done. Trashy somebody from on the Real Housewives? Done. Maverick from Top Gun? Rocky Balboa? Sexy Schoolgirl? Normal looking school girl that cares more about the grades she's getting than the way she looks? That's right, ladies and gentlemen, I could make all the costumes happen without anything more than a trio to my closet and a trip to our garage.

Hallow-freaking-miracle.

His eyebrow lifts ever so slightly and he gives me a flat stare.

Remy can tell I'm just looking for him to butter me up; I can see it in his eyes, "Chere, I'm sure dat yo' would have no problem getting a costume t'gether."

I shrug in a way that is supposed to appear self-deprecating, "Well, Ah suppose Ah could come up with something."

"Oh, and one mo' thing, Roguey."

I finish the last bit of wine in the glass. "What's that?"

"Make it someting sexy."

* * *

You'd think with me on top, that I'd have some control.

Remy wraps his large hands around either side of my hips, helping to lift me, helping me to ride him.

I grind my hips down on to him and he curses, his eyes closing and his head falling back against the chair behind him.

I place my hands over his and reset the rhythm, slowing it down, teasing him; all the while knowing I should be moving faster, trying to finish our little trust before anyone catches us in the act or notices we are gone.

But I don't. I'm enjoying this too much, Remy's hot and hard inside me and the groans he's making are going straight to my core.

Let's be honest, the two of us aren't known for being quiet in bed. Having our own house has not helped that. Trying to keep it down because there's a bunch of people on the other side of the door that are trained listeners? Not easy as all.

I see Remy biting his lip, probably trying not to shout his favorite F word in the same way that I'm trying not to call out his name.

I move my hands from his and reach out to wrap them around his neck, pulling his head toward mine. Our mouths meet all teeth and tongues and I feel him swallow any moans I try and make.

As our lips meet, his body position changes, his body is no longer reclined against the back of the chair. He pulls his whole body against me so we're chest to chest. I can feel the fabric of his dress shirt through the cut outs in the front of my costume.

His arms move upwards and encircle my waist tightly, holding us too close together, connected so intimately in so many other ways. With me on his lap, our height is even and he kisses me hard as my whole body shudders. Moving his body has changed the angle and I feel him deeper. Oh so deep.

My head lolls back and I open my mouth in a silent scream. It feels so good. Remy takes the opportunity and his lips are back at my neck, sucking and then using his tongue to lap at the bruised skin.

All of the sudden, I don't want to go slow anymore.

I feel him move his hands back to my hips, and he increases the pace. I'm riding his strong, hard body as he thrusts upwards into me.

I'm so close.

* * *

"Yah want me to wear a sexy costume?" I look curiously at him. The sexy part doesn't bother me. I mean, it's Halloween.

It's the only holiday women in their 20s can dress up like complete sluts and not be judged for it. Hey, I'm all for looking sexy. I like to think of it as one of those "if you've got it, flaunt it" situations. If you want to be a sexy ear of corn or sexy Hamburgler for Halloween, then by all means, be my guest.

What I'm interested is why Remy is specifically asking for the sexy part, "How sexy?" I arch my eyebrow at him. Hey, I think we can all agree that there are different levels of sexiness (like that ear of corn would be at a low level, I think.)

He shrugs, but he's wearing that famous smirk of his, and I can see something in his eyes, "Jus look hot, dat's all."

Remy asks a lot of lewd and inappropriate stuff of me, and most of it I'm more than happy to go along with, because it usually leaves me very satisfied. There's something very strange about this one, though. I'm completely unconvinced by his cavalier tone; I nod and let him think he's got me.

"Okay, Ah can look hot." There is one very interesting piece of the puzzle that we're missing, "But the real question is, then what are yah wearing, Cajun?"

I watch my man's expression to one that looks completely innocent. Which, of course, means it's totally bullshit.

He shrugs all blasé like, "I got someting picked out."

Yeah, right; like I'm going to let him leave it at that. We're a couple, right? I don't know a lot about relationships, but I'm assuming that once you start living with someone, it opens up a wide world of couple's costumes. This is something I've never explored before.

I mean, there are so many more opportunities. I can list like a million couple's costumes right now.

No, seriously. I can.

Ready? Paula Dean and butter, shoes and socks, Spider-Man and Gwen (haha, just kidding! Love you, MJ! Come visit our new place soon!), Charlie Brown and Lucy, boobs (there's two of them), those douchey doctors on Grey's Anatomy who are all sleeping with each other, April and a Ninja Turtle, Vinnie Chase and E, the Pink Ranger and the Green/White Ranger.

See? Told you so.

"So," I push him a little further, clearly suspicious, "What do yah have picked out?"

He smiles that asshole smile of his, "I got a new suit. It's dark gray. Very classy."

* * *

He thrusts up into me as his hand makes its way between my legs. Oh gosh.

Oh yes.

The orgasm hits me like a tidal wave. My whole body shudders and I'm gasping for air. I can barely breathe as it overtakes me; burying me in pleasure and making me whole body feel hot and sated.

He doesn't stop though. That man is all sex, fire, and steel and completely relentless.

My body slumps slightly as I let the feeling of complete satisfaction relax my body. He gives me a minute and holds my body tight against his, his arms around me.

And then, in a moment that would impress anyone, Remy doesn't miss a beat. I feel the arm tighten around my waist, and the other arm move down below my ass. Flexing his built, hot muscled legs, Remy stand ups, taking me with him. Taking two steps forward, with his hips still pressed up against mine and his manhood buried so deep with me, he lays me on the desk in front of him.

I shouldn't be surprised; it was only a matter of time until he got on top of me. Sure, I've ridden him until we've both come, but that's when we have unlimited time in bed together. Judging by the heavy breaths and sweat along his hairline, I don't think Remy is going to last too much longer.

I'm surprised as I watch him step back momentarily, finally separating our bodies. I don't know what he's doing, but he bends over and starts digging through our pile of clothes. His naked ass is slightly covered by the back edge of his dress shirt, but looks delicious.

He stands up and turns back towards me. It only takes me a moment for me to notice the black plastic square in his left hand. He gives me a look, but I say nothing, besides panting to still catch my breath from a moment ago. He brings the condom package up to his mouth and rips it open with his teeth. It only takes a second for those skilled and experienced hands to get the latex out of the package and roll it onto his smooth hardness.

I'm not used to him 'suiting up' when we're together, and it's kind of strange to see, but he doesn't give me any time to think about it.

He slams into me, and I can't silence that shout. His mouth is electric, and his lips travel away from my collarbone. I feel hip lapping at the V of my cleavage, just above the zipper on my top.

I watch a long, strong arm reach above me. He's stretched out his torso, and is grabbing the other edge of the desk, giving himself more leverage and grinding into me. I close my eyes and lay back and take it, there's not much else I can do. My legs are bent and under his chest, leaving me with my knees up against my chest, completely open to him and unable to do anything but let him take me.

* * *

"A gray suit?!" I look at him incredulously, "That's the worst costume Ah've ever heard of. That's not a costume at all!"

What a ridiculous idea. You can't show up to a Halloween party without a costume.

He runs his tongue along his bottom lip like he always does when he's thinking, and it momentarily distracts me. I can tell he's debating what to say, but he finally just shrugs, "Only de femmes will be in costume."

Well, that's interesting. To be honest, I'm not sure what to say to that. I'm slightly affronted, but I know how his business operates so I guess I shouldn't be quite as shocked as I feel. I stare at him for a moment while I try to formulate my response. "So, let meh get this straight," Because I'm sure it needs some kind of clarification, "All you an' your buddies will be there, but not dressed up?"

"Well, they'll be dressed nice."

I narrow my eyes at him, "Yah know what Ah mean. The men won't be in costume?"

He nods.

"But all the women will be?"

He nods again.

And knowing how they operate, I continue, "And all the women will be dressed sexy?"

He nods again, but this time he's grinning and looking very satisfied with himself.

I know you're probably wondering how a party like this could happen. I'm kind of wondering too, but I guess it makes sense in an industry where the women can't hold positions of power. And before you start objecting to that and bringing up all kinds of legal ramifications, let's just say that the law doesn't mean what you think it does in Remy's line of work.

"Ah'm surprised yah won't mind me looking hot around all your buddies."

He waves it off like it's no big deal, but there's something in his expression that I don't trust.

Rather than ask him, I decide to do what I do best.

I stand up from my chair and slowly start to untie the drawstring of my pants as I walk towards him. His eyes are immediately glued to my hands.

Yeah, it's that easy. Like taking candy from a baby.

Stopping in front of his chair, I lean forward to meet his lips with mine.

He quickly responds and gets his hands on my hips, pulling me onto his lap.

It's then that our lips meet, and I can't give you details, but I let the absorption happen. I spend about ten seconds, my lips pressed against his, feeling the full flood of Remy into my mind.

As I pull back, I see that blurry, unfocused look in his eyes that always follows the use of my mutation. It takes a moment for his eyes to clear; red and focused on mine.

And, by that time, I'm already wet.

Looking through the images in his mind? I had no idea.

I don't give him a chance to talk. I crash my lips against his, and without pulling back, I manage to maneuver one leg onto the other side of his body so that I'm straddling him.

Remy responds in kind, not needing any prompting, and certainly not wasting time to question me. His arms wrap around my body and he pulls me close.

I'm so hot.

I drag my teeth along his earlobe, and whisper against him, "Ah saw what yah want, Cajun."

"Oh yeah?" He's panting as he quickly moves a hand into the front of my pants, rubbing and teasing me over my panties, "An' what's that?"

I gasp, but I continue, rolling my hips forward towards his hand. "Yah want me," I lick the shell of his ear, "In front of all your friends. Yah want me looking sexy, yah want me half naked."

He groans and his eyes close. His hand falters a bit, but I don't mind. I know what my words are doing to him. Seated comfortably on his lap, I can feel every word making him harder, turning him on even more.

"Yah want everyone to see me, and know they can't have me," I blow on that ear, "Yah want to show me off. Yah want to have the hottest, most wanted, most fuckable, date at that party."

I scoot my body back a few inches and move my right hand from his neck. It takes very little time for me to get his zipper and button undone, thankful that my man has neglected to wear anything under his jeans. As I wrap my hand around his hardness, and begin to pump him with long, firm strokes, I lean my head back towards his ear. "Yah want everyone to want me, just because they can't have me."

He groans and his hand on me falls away, and I don't know if it's in response to my words or that I start pumping him faster, in a way I know that he likes.

"Yah want everyone to know what a hot piece of ass yah have."

"Merde!" He curses loudly, roughly as he comes inside his jeans, his body shuddering.

* * *

He increases his pace, speeding up, giving me all he has.

Involuntarily, I grasp at the desk, look for something to hold on to. I hear something fall and I'm fairly certain I've knocked a cup of pens off the desk, but I don't care. I finally get settle for his biceps, all muscled and well defined – one stretched across the desk, and the other near my head, as his hand is flat against the desk, holding some of his weight. My hands wrap around them, digging my nails in to secure myself.

I don't think Remy and I have done it with protection in years. It's been a ridiculously long time. Of course, back then it was for a very different reason and very necessary. Now that I have a choice, we typically forgo the prophylactics. It's a strange thought to even have.

Of course, I don't know if you know a lot about condoms, but they can actually be beneficial in some circumstances (well, outside of their whole intended purpose of preventing one-night-stand-babies and super gross STDs.) Guys who I assume are like my friend Scott? Who can't last all that long? Well, condoms can make them last a little bit longer; all that latex kills a bit of the sensitivity.

But for my boyfriend/sex god who already has amazing stamina?

Well, all I'm going to be saying is that I'm sure I'll be sore tomorrow.

I find myself moaning quietly as he thrusts back into me.

I tilt my chin up slightly and he takes the hint, crashing his lips against mine. It makes me light headed.

* * *

I separate myself from him and step back. His body looks relaxed – like it always does after he climaxes – but his eyes give him away, still full of some of that carnal heat.

I start to head out of the kitchen, but his voice stops me, "Where yo' going?"

Really? I cock my eyebrow and try to give him a stern look, "Upstairs. Ah have less than twenty four hours to put together a costume."

I watch him look down at his lap momentarily and look back at me.

"And clean yourself up," The wet spot on his jeans is obvious, "Yah are a mess."

I can tell he's slightly surprised (and also wondering how I feel about his thoughts). We don't do a lot without mutual reciprocation (unless you count the fact that I get on my knees and try to give him a blowie every time we're in an elevator – but that's just tradition). I do feel hot right now, but that can wait until later tonight with my bathtub and waterproof vibrator. Right now, I have bigger fish to fry.

Halloween is serious business, people.

Not waiting for his response, I head towards the stairs. I need to go through the stuff in my closet I can use. I do have a very good idea, though. I just have to make sure I can bring it all together.

I know what you're thinking, and all I want to say is don't judge me.

I don't mind the idea of gallivanting around Remy's buddies in what I can only predict will be a slutty outfit. You might think its degrading or something, but it's not.

And it's not like I even mind being objectified. Those guys can look, but they can't touch. It gives me a sense of power. I'm a strong woman, and if I want to show off the body that I've spent a mind-boggling amount of hours to maintain, then what of it. I should be empowered by the fact that people could be turned on by the body I've worked for.

And I can tell you're still judging me.

Well, think about this: My skin in my greatest strength. The more skin I have showing could actually make me stronger. It's how I use my mutation, my given super-powers.

If I was really going to get into it? Really going to fight someone I didn't know if I could beat? Well, my biggest advantage would really be to fight naked. That would be the way to make the most of the mutation I've been given.

Well, not completely naked. I'd at least have to have on a sports bra. I cannot get anything done without locking the girls down.

Showing my skin makes me feel strong. You have no idea what I've gone through to make my skin safe for others, but let's just say I'm proud of it. I have no issues showing off what I've worked so hard for.

Oh and bonus? Apparently my man gets off on it, which is totally hot.

* * *

His eyes are closing, and he thrusting faster and I know he's getting close.

I feel him bury himself to the hilt, and use the hand on the opposite edge of the desk to pull his body forward. He grinds against me, while cursing.

I can feel those strong muscles in his biceps quiver. He shouts out loud.

His head falls down between my neck and shoulders, his lips just resting against the skin. His hips move upwards and backwards in a few halfhearted thrusts, no doubt riding out the last of his orgasm.

It takes a minute, and I feel their entire weight of his body on top of mine before he forces himself to stand up and step back.

With my hands on my side, I prop myself up on my elbows, legs now hanging off the edge of the desk.

I watch as he takes off the condom and ties it off. After looking around for a moment, he grabs a paper off the desk. Sure, seeing as it looks like ledger paper and it's filled with neatly written handwriting, I'm sure it could be important to someone (possibly the person whose office we just defiled). Uncaring about all that, Remy tucks the condom into the sheet of paper and crumples it around it. Then he drops it into a small trash bin near the leather chair that I hadn't even noticed.

His eyes meet mine and he shrugs, "I was surprised yo' didn' ask me 'bout it."

"About what?" I narrow my eyes silently as I try to figure out what he's talking about. I've never been great at thinking post-sex. I think the blood in my body hasn't returned to where it should be yet.

He nabs the plastic condom wrapper from the desk and holds it up before placing it in the same trash bin.

"Oh, the condom. Right." I nod and pull myself into a sitting position, and I can already feel aching in my hips. "Ah did think it was strange."

And that stupid asshole smug smirk of his is back. "I grabbed it after I saw yo' in dat outfit. I didn't tink there'd be anyway I could make it until we got back home tonight."

I laugh in response. How could I not? My man just admitted how irresistible I am. I mean, I already knew it, but it's always fun to hear him say it.

"Easy cleanup," He's grinning, "An' I tought dat I might try an' take yo' in a room full o' people or someting. Just trying to be prepared."

Seriously? I roll my eyes at him. "Yeah, okay. Yah are a real boy scout, Cajun."

I watch as he grabs his briefs and pants from the floor, even having just climaxed and 'standing down' as it were, Remy is still huge. Not that I've slept with too too many people, but Remy wins that contest for sure.

And, of course, you know he's proud of how well-endowed he is. Sometimes I want to smack him over the head and remind him that he didn't actually do anything to be that size… but I enjoy that particular body part so much that I just let it slide.

He's looking at me, between my legs with salacious eyes. Yeah, right. I shoot him a look that's supposed to convey "I need to be able to walk tomorrow" and cross one leg over the other.

* * *

This is going to be perfect. It's actually all serendipitous or whatever.

I hold the outfit up to my body and look in the mirror. Just perfect.

I actually bought about three weeks ago, planning to use it to seduce Remy, but for some reason haven't got around to it yet. It's practically my lucky day. What are the chances I have a sexy getup that he hasn't seen yet?

It's like, sometimes we're just too busy taking clothes off that I don't have time to put clothes on first.

My man likes costumes, what of it? I think his favorite is the nurse, but maybe he just has some fetish for garters. Well, I suppose it could be the fishnets. . . Or the red pumps. Oh, who knows what is it? All I know is he was looking at me like wolf looks at a steak or whatever happens in those old cartoons, where the character's eyes get all huge and there's drool falling out of his mouth.

* * *

I watch him as he adjusts himself in his briefs, and then gets his pants back on.

With a smirk, he holds out my thong underwear to me, letting them hang from his index finger. I ignore the bedroom eyes he's trying to give me, and grab them from him, sliding them on before hopping off the desk.

After I get my hot pants back on, and try to smooth the mess in assuming my hair has turned in to, I start looking around the desk and the chair, "Have yah seen mah boots?"

He nods, "Pretty sure yo' kicked 'em off by de door."

Ooooh, that's right. Remy pushed me in here, and I didn't feel like wasting any time.

* * *

I give myself a final once over in the mirror. Remy LeBeau is gonna eat this shit up.

Looking at my phone, I realize it's probably time to go. I'm sure Remy is just waiting for me downstairs. Luckily, Kitty has taught me the small value of being fashionably late.

I head down the stairs, and find him predictably in the kitchen. Like the dork he is, he's sitting at the table nursing a beer and reading what looks like a security manual for something. Ha. Nerd.

I watch his face as he notices me. He sets his bottle on the table awfully hard and he quickly pushes back the chair and stands up.

His eyes are wide and his jaw drops a bit. I can see him looking me up and down and basically objectifying me, but I kind of love it.

"Rogue," his head tilts to the side, "Yo look…" I can tell he's searching for the right word, and his tongue is wetting his bottom lip, "sexy as hell."

Bingo.

"Ah thought it'd be funny," I tilt my hip towards him and wink, "A cop among thieves? Why not?"

He's still looking at me hungrily, "Dis tief has never seen a cop dat looks dat good."

I laugh because I can't not, and I'm sure that he's right.

My costume is made up of two main pieces. One piece is the pair of tiny black hot pants I've got on. They barely cover my ass, and as slutty as it is, I know that Remy will love the fact that he'll be able to see the under curve of my rear. Of course, give me some credit; I made sure to wear underwear with them.

The top of my costume is a whole 'nother get up. There's one long zipper from between my breasts down the center of the piece, it stops at the bottom bear my belly button, leaving a large glimpse of midriff exposed. It's kind of like a dark blue bustier, but it's got cut outs along the side. Because, I mean, if there's a way to show more skin then why not. It pushes my boob up like nothing else, and I feel like the girls are balanced practically up at my chin. I mean, when I walk you can see the tops of those things jiggle. Remy's gonna love it.

Oh, and the top has a big "POLICE" on the back in yellow which makes it totally legit.

Of course, the best part about it is that I swapped out the cheap, plastic handcuffs that came with the costume and replaced it with the real, legit metal cuff that we keep in that drawer in our nightstand. The costume top even has a cute little place to attach them, near the bottom.

Naturally, the black leather boots I've got on complete the look. They go just over the knee and have a heel on them, and make me a good couple of inches taller. Frankly, they kind of make me feel badass.

I've left my hair, a mix of brown and white, in a loose ponytail over my shoulder. That way, I can easily fit my little black hat that holds my shiny little badge.

I'm officially the sexiest cop ever.

My lovely Cajun, though without costume, isn't looking too bad himself. He's got a new suit, which I'm sure costs way more than I make in a month (or two…or three), but it fits him perfectly. The light pink (this time it is pink) dress shirt is pulled just-so across his chest, hinting at those delectable pectoral muscles, and he's gone sans tie, leaving the top three buttons undone. I can see the tanned skin of his neck, freshly shaved and smooth, leading down to the V of his collar. It looks delicious. His jacket is the same dark, charcoal gray as his pants and the color looks perfect. His pants are perfectly tailored and pressed, as always, and I can't help but admire the way they look on him.

And his beautiful chin length hair is tightly pulled back, in a kind of half ponytail. You'd think that pulling back the hair from the top of his head, while the rest hangs at the nape of his neck would look feminine, but not on him. My man manages to pull off the look in the same way David Beckham used to, all utterly masculine and sexy.

I can feel his eyes glued to me as I head towards the garage and he follows me. He slaps my ass as I head into the garage. I notice the key ring in his hand and assume we're taking his sports car. Seeing as I have no idea where we're going, I slide into the passenger seat.

His eyes run up my legs again, "Un minute, chere." Remy turns quickly to head back into the house.

I don't mind though, I buckle my seat belt and take dibs of the radio. I flip though the satellite stations before settling on the 90s one.

He's finally back in the car, and we're speeding down the curved road that leads to our house. I don't bother to pay attention to where we're going. If I'm not driving, that means I can drink. And if I'm drinking, then I'll have no need for these directions later.

Eventually, we reach another residential area. The houses are huge and far apart with wide green lawns, and frankly all look like Mini McMansions.

We park on the street and Remy wraps an arm possessively around my waist, leading me towards the largest house on the block. All the trees and bushes are covered in fake spider webs, and there tiny orange and purple lights decorating the entire façade of the house.

I can feel the bass and hear the pumping music and we're not even inside yet. Remy opens the front door and I'm assaulted with loud music, crazy decorations, half-dressed bodies, and the best party I've ever seen.

Needless to say, I'm impressed. The grin spreads across my face and I look towards my man, whose grin mirrors my own, "Wow. So, this is Halloween?"

The grin goes and he leads my body inside, "Non, this Halloween: Tief Guild style."

I hear a wolf whistle as I cross the threshold and someone calls out Remy's name. As he lifts a hand to wave in one direction, we're approached on the opposite side.

"LeBeau!" A hand slaps my man on the back, "Yo made it!"

"Oui," Remy's hand drifts to my ass and he gestures toward me with his chin, "Anna, dis is my cousin Theo, Theo dis is Anna."

I notice a smirk that looks similar to Remy's, and I'm greeted with the quirk of an eyebrow, "Looks like yo datin' de police, non?"

"Careful," I warn him playfully, "Ah might arrest yah."

It's obvious what he's thinking as Theo drags his eyes slowly up my body, pausing on my breasts before they're back at my eyes, "I don't tink I would mind."

Remy, of course, looks pleased as punch.

As Theo walks away, I look surprised at Remy. I know he knows my real name, but I don't think he's ever used it. It sounds strange coming from his lips, and I'm not sure how I feel about it. I mean, I guess it's not a big deal . . .

But still, I pull a face at him, "Really? Anna?"

I watch something serious make its way across his face before it looks relaxed again. Even with my heels, he has to tilt his head down towards me. I can feel his breath warm against my ear as he speaks quietly, "It's prolly best dat dey don't know what yo' really are."

My first thought is "mutant" and it makes me a little pissy. I mean c'mon here, we're not second-class citizens.

Remy gives me a serious look, but it dawns on me what he's saying. My name Rogue may or may not tie me to an x-gene, but it would definitely tie me to the X-Men. It's probably a good idea to keep the whole "super hero crime fighter" thing under wraps when you're around a bunch of unsavory individuals.

I nod and it causes Remy to place a hand on the back of my neck and force my lips towards his in a hot open-mouthed kiss. I wasn't expecting it, and I place my hands on his chest. His lips against mine and the feeling of those strong pecs under my fingers makes me feel drunk all ready.

We separate when someone else wolf whistles at us.

For those keeping track: that's now two whistles. I love it.

I look around the room not that surprised that it definitely seems like a younger crowd. All the men are more formal, full suits or at least dress pants and button-down shirts, and all the ladies are basically in various states of undress. I see one girl dressed like a clown, and it is not sexy at all. I kind of feel bad for her.

Hey! There's a sexy ear of corn! I knew it!

We make our way into another room, and Remy is greeted by what I'm assuming is another Cajun.

"Remy!" Cajun #2 hands Remy a beer bottle and then one to me. I have to say I appreciate the nice manners.

"Lapin," he raises his voice so that it can be heard. There are at least 100 people in here, mingling and drinking. Remy holds up his bottle and his friend meets it in a 'cheers' like gesture.

"And," Lapin's attention finally turns to me, "Who is dis?" Like the typical man he is, I see him check me out.

"Dis is Anna," Remy is smirking, "She's my lover."

Despite the fact that I'm not embarrassed by our relationship at all, I feel myself blush a bit at the term. Yes, it's true, but it just sounds very personal when I hear it from his lips.

Lapin looks surprised, "She's yo lover? An' here I tought yo' finally got a date fo' de party."

Remy's smirk turns into something softer, "Oh no, Lapin, she is much more den dat."

It's kind of fun to hear Remy talk about me to other people. Let's be honest, in a typical day, everyone else he ends up talking to are people that already know me like Pete or Johnny. I like hearing him introduce me to people I don't know. We could do this all night.

Obviously, taking compliments is something I'm very skilled at. It's one of my hidden talents.

"Claude!" Lapin turns towards a fare end of the room and calls out, "Remy brought a date dis year! And she's mo' den a date!"

We're greeted by yet another Cajun who excited makes his way towards us, "No way! Never tought I'd see de day!"

Remy smiles in good humor, "Claude, dis is Anna, my lover. Anna, dis is Claude."

Claude's eyes turn to me and he quickly takes my hand and brings it to his lips, "Remy doesn't usually bring dates t' de holiday parties, but in dis case I'm glad he did." Claude grins and tilts his head down while he leans towards me. His lips are near my ear and his voice is dripping with insinuation, "If yo' ever get tired o' Remy."

"Nice try, Claude," Remy's arm is back around my waist and he pulls my body back into his, "But yo know she'll never be able t' get enough o' dis Cajun."

Sometime, I really truly think I never will.

I'm not going to lie; this might be my favorite party ever. We made our way through the crowds, Remy introducing me to way too many people to remember. About half of them kisses my hand too… those Cajuns are hilarious.

The women too, while dressed sexy, seem nice enough. Some are girlfriends, some are dates, some have rocks for brains, but it really seems like everyone is just out to have a good time.

I look up at Remy, who is laughing with some Cajuns about the time the put Santa on the postmaster's roof and I smile.

"Ah'm gonna go get another drink."

Remy nods and slaps my ass as I walk away.

Cue more Cajun cat calls.

I approach the bar - that's right, this freaking party has three fully stocked bars complete with working bar tenders and I could totally get used to that - and order a mojito.

I think about getting another beer for Remy, but he's been nursing the same one for a while. Obviously he knows he'll be the one driving home tonight. I can appreciate that.

"A cop in a thieves' den?"

I turn to my right to find a woman smirking at me.

I shrug humoredly, "Ah thought it'd be hilarious."

As I'm handed my drink, I take a sip and look over the woman. Her costume is a tad ridiculous (and this is coming from someone who kind of liked the corn costume), and black and skintight. The neckline drops down way below her breasts, not to mention that it's lined with ridiculous fur, and showing all kinds of side boob. She's got one of those little masks on her face that just goes around her eyes. Oh, and she's got some pretty amazing hair, it's all voluminous but white. I don't mind the white though; I mean I'm pretty fond of my own skunk streak.

And, let's be honest, those white boots of hers are kind of adorable.

She seems nice enough so I continue. "Judging by the cat suit, Ah'd say cat burglar?"

Which really is completely uncreative for this party.

She smiles and nods.

I hear a loud shout and someone yelling "LeBeau!" so my eyes drift back to my Cajun. I don't know what happened but he and all his buddies are laughing and slapping each other on the back.

Men.

I let my eyes linger on Remy for a moment, and I really appreciate how his new suit looks on him. He's taken the jacket off and rolled up the sleeves of his dress shirt, and now I can see the tantalizing tanned skin of his forearms. My mind starts to drift, thinking about how strong those arms can be.

"He's a good lay, isn't he?"

Cat Lady pulls my mind away from the gutter it was heading towards and I nod, "He sure is."

What? It doesn't bother me that she's slept with him. I mean, I'm not making a point if meeting all of Remy's previous lovers, but I know he's got a past. I do too. I'm not judging him. If I got mad about every person he slept with when we weren't together, I would waste a lot of energy. There was never any commitment in those years we were apart. I get it. He's mine now and that's all that really matters to me.

Her body turns towards me a bit more and she offers a hand, "Felicia."

I switch my drink to the other hand and return her handshake, "Anna."

"I saw you come in with Remy. I was surprised. He doesn't really bring dates to these kinds of parties." She's handed a drink as well, and I think it's a rum and coke.

I shrug, I'm new, I get it. "Well, yah know Remy," if she does actually know him, which I'll give her, the benefit of the doubt, "He doesn't like to mix business and pleasure."

She nods slowly, her eyes looking up and down my Cajun, "That he does not. He takes business very seriously."

I nod. He isn't too open about his business, but I know enough.

"But then again," her lips transform into a wicked smirk, "He takes pleasure seriously too."

I can't help it, I grin. I know, I know, it should be more awkward for me, but I can't stop it. I mean, she's right. And it's putting allllllll sorts of ideas in my head. That man can do things with his body that you cannot even imagine. I love it. You would be shocked at some of the positions we've accomplished. I grin widely at her, "Boy does he ever."

She nods, satisfied, but her eyes are still mentally undressing my man. I wonder if she'll picture the nail marks I left on his back last night.

Cat Lady is about to say something else, but at this point, the Cajun in question approaches us.

He's grinning, all happy and carefree, the same way all the other drunk Cajuns are.

As he approaches us, he leans in and kisses Catty on the cheek, "Felicia!" He seems happy to see her, and she offers him her hand and he kisses that as well, "So good to see yo'. How have yo' been?"

She smiles in a way that's insinuating something else and walks two of her fingers along his bicep, "I've been doing really well, Remy."

He slings an arm around my shoulders and surprises me by kissing me quickly on the mouth, "Have yo' two met?" He doesn't wait for an answer, "Anna, dis is my business associate, Felicia. Felicia, this is Anna, my lover."

"Your current lover, you mean?" She arches an eyebrow.

Remy shrugs in response, but I guarantee you it's because he didn't understand the question. I mean, really, his eyes are staring at my pushed up boobs and they're totally glued on them. I'm pretty sure that's all he's thinking about.

"Anna," his eyes finally look up and meet mine, "Do yo' mind if we take a cab home?"

The laugh bubbles out of me before I can stop it, "Because yah want to get drunk?"

I can tell he's trying to make his smile angelic, but it doesn't work. "The boys are doin' shots!"

I laugh and shake my head. How else can I even respond to that, "Then go join them."

He's grinning and kissing me again, and part of me wonders if he already did those shots. And of course, Remy being Remy, slaps my ass (again) before heading back to his buddies.

Felicia, who just seemed nice before, now seems quite intrigued by us, "He asked your permission before drinking."

I think she was just stating it out loud because she was surprised by it, but I feel the need to clear up that I'm not some crazy controlling girlfriend. Despite the fact that we're here to party, I know there's a lot of politics in play, and I don't want to risk leaving a bad taste about any of Remy's life, be it personal or business. I shake my head a bit, "Remy promised tah drive home so Ah've been drinking all night. There's no way Ah'd blow a .08."

"That's surprisingly responsible."

My laugh comes out a bit of a snort (maybe I should drink this one a little slower), "Well, y'know Remy, doesn't want to let out the secret that he's smarter than he looks."

She presses her lips together in a way that tells me she wants to laugh, "He does hide it well."

"Maybe not," I shrug but can't keep the smile off my face, "Ah think Ah'm just too busy being distracted by his looks."

"He does make women look bad," Her smile is more genuine now.

"He sure does," What? It's true. That man has made me seriously doubt my amount of brain cells. It's like his shirt comes off and I'm a drooling, hot mess. It's embarrassing, but trust me, if you ever see his body, you will realize how truly distracting it can be.

"So?" Her eyebrow is arched and she looks curious, "You two are heading home after this?"

I nod, "Yeah, no after party for us. We've got a lot going on tomorrow."

"Will you be heading back to the city?" I wonder if she's fishing for something. "Remy still has a place there, yes?"

"Actually, we live just outside the city. Remy still has his apartment, but he's been renting it."

If renting it to Johnny actually counts. I'm pretty sure that my Cajun lets him stay there for next to nothing, which doesn't bother me. But those two get together and drunk dial me repeatedly during the middle of the night. Drives me bananas. Some of us actually have to work in the morning.

Although, I guess it's better than when John passes out on our couch and walks in on Remy and I the next morning. Yeah, him staying at Remy's old place is a much better idea.

"You two," her finger runs itself along the rim of her glass while she looks at me more intensely, "live together?"

As I take another drink, I nod.

"And how long have you been together?"

"That's a good question," I laugh because I feel like I've heard that question from my friends many, many times, "We were off and on for a few years."

"A few years?" I can see her trying to work out something in her head, "Remy has never mentioned anyone else."

"Yeah," I grin, "Ah'm not always the best at commitment, but it's on now."

"You mean," she looks a bit surprised, "that Remy was chasing you?"

"Well, Ah'm not big into grand romantic gestures or anything," I can't even fight off the warm smile that makes its way onto my face, "but when your boyfriend buys you a house, it's a pretty big motivation to move in with him."

Felicia's eyes get as big as saucers and the volume of her notice jumps a bit before settling back down, "He bought you a house?! So you two could move in together?"

"That's the Cliff Notes version."

"I'm just surprised; Remy never seemed like one to settle down, and well," she shrugs unapologetically, "With you dressed up like that, I just figured you were nothing more than arm candy."

It's a little offensive, but I shrug it off due to the fact she's in a skin tight cat suit, and because my costume is way better than hers.

And, let's be honest: Home girl is jealous.

"If Remy wants me to parade around in little more than hot pants?" I give her a long look before setting my now empty glass on the counter, "That's fine by me. He gets off on it, which is good for me."

"Anna!" I hear Remy's voice call me from across the room.

"Because," I give her one last smile, although this one is a bit more fake than before, "Ah'm the one taking him home tonight."

Felicia looks at me, mouth a little gape-y.

"Anna!" My favorite Cajun calls me again.

I step away from the bar, and towards Remy's direction, "It was nice to meet yah, Felicia."

Again people: politics.

Before I even get to my favorite Cajun, he's meeting me in the middle of the room, grabbing my hand. With no choice but to follow, I let him pull me along.

Remy leads me through a set of double doors, and if I thought it was loud before, I was wrong. Now the music is loud and I can feel the bass pumping. I don't know what room we're in, but the lights are low and it's jammed with people. I can feel the body heat from the people dancing near us.

The music has a fast beat and everyone is dancing. With the low light, it's hard to make out the number of people in the room, but people are nearly on top of each other. It's like we're at a night club.

Remy's smiling as he pulls me into the throng of people. He quickly pulls my body against his and kisses me hotly.

As people dance around us, I feel his arms move down my body. I feel them snake around my waist and hold me tightly. Without even breaking the kiss, I feel our hips start to move. I feel our bodies match the rhythm of the music as they press against each other. My breasts are against his chest as he holds me tighter to him.

When our lips separate, I feel him breathing on my neck, and then I feel his hot lips near my ear.

"I was right, yo know," I feel him nip at my ear.

I don't bother responding, I doubt he could hear me without my lips pressed up against his ear, and his body against mine is making me breathless.

"I do have de hottest date at dis party."

Surprising me, he quickly spins my body around. I don't know how he managed it so quickly or so smoothly, but all of the sudden my back is plastered to his front.

And, of course, I can feel his hardness pressing against me all ready.

Guess it doesn't take more than a sexy cop costume to get my man excited.

As the music plays on, we dance and it's kind of fantastic. Remy doesn't just 'let go' all that often. There's something exciting about letting go a bit of your inhibitions in a room full of people.

That and it's completely hot to rub your body up against your partner's.

As Remy grinds into me, and I do the same back to him, I start to think that maybe we're not just dancing.

I wrap my arms backwards around him, getting my hands on his waist. After a moment, I can't wait anymore, and I spin back around in his arms. It barely takes a second before his lips are back on mine.

He places his hands, surprisingly gently, on my cheeks, as his tongue fights for dominance with mine. Awkwardly, I place my hands on his waist, because I'm worried if I place them on his chest, that they'll start undoing the buttons on his shirt.

As he kisses me, I can feel my body melt against his. My heart beats faster as my hips continue to move with the rhythm of the song. He sways his hips against mine as his lips move to my neck.

I let my hands drift from his waist to his hips. My hands ball the previously unwrinkled pants in my hands as he kisses and then nips my chin.

Momentarily districted from his teeth, I feel something in his left pocket. Knowing that his wallet and keys are always in his right pocket, I can't help my curiosity. It's small and has a lot of give to it. I slide my hand into his pocket.

My eyes widen as I hold up a plastic square in front of my face. That's surprising.

Remy takes the condom from my hand and places it back into his pocket.

Well, when in Rome. . .I'll play.

"What is this, Cajun?" I run my tongue along my bottom lip, "Looks like Ah could bust yah for possession."

Remy counters my look with one of his own. His mouth is against mine, hot and wet, before those lips are quickly at my ear again, "Yo' gonna use your handcuffs?"

My breath catches in my throat, "If you make me."

It's all downhill after that. His mouth is against mine and we're kissing with our whole bodies, lips to lips, chest to chest, hips to hips.

We're dragging ourselves through the crowds of people, groping each other the whole way.

I follow Remy, not caring where we are. We make our way to a back hallway and he presses my body against the wall. I can feel his body against mine as his lips nip their way down my neck. My eyes close and my breath catches.

I want this.

I want him.

I can feel his hand groping the wall next to me. I open my eyes to see what he's doing, and then I realize the wall I'm pressed against is actually a door. His hand finds the knob and twists and we stumble into a dark room.

One of his hands finds the light switch, and flips it while closing the door.

Light floods the room and I can see that we've found the office. Remy turns back to me, as I'm unzipping a boot. I drop my left boot near the door as his lips crash against mine once again.

* * *

I find my boots and Remy slides them onto my feet and zips them, after kissing each of my calves. He looks, y'know, satisfied, but still has a bit of a grin on his face.

I'm used to him looking pleased with himself after sex, but there's something else behind those red eyes that I can't place.

"Remy?" I look over at him as he's trying to smooth the wrinkles out of his suit.

"Oui, chere?" Again, there's something there.

"What aren't you tellin' meh?"

"Noting." And now he's trying to look innocent, so I know it's all bullshit.

"Remy?" I cock an eyebrow at him.

"It's really noting, Roguey." The same stupid look.

"Remy?"

He shakes his head again and just continues smiling at me.

Does he just forget what I do best?

I roll my eyes at him but walk over to where he's stand, near the closed office door and place a hand on the back of his neck. I tilt his head down to mine and softly press my bruised lips against his.

I step back and give it a moment for him to stop looking so unfocused, as he always does after he encounters my mutation. It takes a moment, but the haze clears.

"Remy!" I yell at him and smack him in the stomach. Those stupid six pack abs probably hurt my hand more than the other way around, and that makes me even more mad.

"What?" He looks honestly confused, but I still don't buy it.

My eyes roll again, but I'm kind of fighting a grin, "Yah really could've just told meh that yah wanted to do it on the Guild Master's desk."

He's grinning and laughing. His arm falls around my shoulders, and I lean into his body, my muscles sweaty and tired. His head tilts down and he kisses the hair that's fallen over my temple, "How 'bout we call dat cab?"

I nod as he opens the door and leads me back into the party.

"Yeah," I nod, "Let's go home."

* * *

Whew! There it is! For those wondering, Rouge's costume is indeed legit. For those of you that are curious, go to the Chelsey's of New York website and search "Ravishing Rookie Cop." Poor Rogue, she was just a rookie.

For those of you wondering about the Remy POV story, I have a few pieces written, but it's not even close to finished and I have major formatting problems. No promises, but I'm hoping eventually it morphs into something legit.

And again, Reviews = Love.

If I told you I had a hard day at work today, would you pity me and give me more reviews? I hope so ;-) !


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